Hot and Cold
by pineappletiems
Summary: This sh-t is so much better than that Katy Perry song. SO much better.  Written by Feigned Decency, not me.


_A/N: Hiiiiii. I didn't write this; one of my BFFs did, but since she'd like to feign decency, she won't post it on her account. SO HERE IT IS, BITCHES. You know what to do after you read it. xoxo  
_

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**Hot and Cold**

* * *

Cal is bored. No, he is worse than bored; he is _fidgety_. He's twitchy and itching to do something other than make nice with the rich and popular of the DC elite.

And that can only spell trouble.

He was fidgety when he broke the chandelier at that Royal reception, when he informed a high-level CIA agent that his wife was cheating on him, and when he invented the bruise-free groin slap.

Fidgety is dangerous on Cal Lightman.

He knocks back the rest of his tumbler of whisky and meanders through the suits to the bar to order another.

As soon as the barman – barely a day over 21 – turns to the optics, Cal hauls himself over the counter and slides a bottle of vodka up his sleeve, the sports jacket proving roomy enough. He's back on his feet before anyone notices, his hand hidden and curled around the base of the bottle.

"Oi," a quiet voice announces, sliding up to his side.

"Foster," he turns to her, his eyes unapologetically following the deep cut of the maroon red material of her dress. "I've been thinking..."

"Oh yeah? What you got up your sleeve?" she smirks.

He grins, "Vodka, but that's beside the point..."

The barman turns back with the generous order of whisky and places it before Cal. Gillian swallows a smirk as a flash of confusion crosses his features to the missing bottle. _He could've_ _sworn he'd just put it there_...

"Martini? Dirty with a twist, please." She orders, hearing a whispered _Deja Vu_ at her side.

"Right..." the barman mumbles, turning back to the optics again.

Gillian slides the bottle from his sleeve and returns it to its place, Cal stealing a glance as she leans over the counter.

"Thanks so much," she smiles sweetly as a martini glass is set on the bar. She scoops some ice cubes into the glass and cups it in her hand, sipping at the clear liquid as the barman stares at the vodka.

"You know, we'll probably spend more on this open bar than what all these stuffed jackets will donate to us."

"_Cal_!" she whispers at his intentionally louder voice. She smiles at some of the suits within earshot who had turned towards the noise. "_Hi, hi, thanks for coming_... Cal, we need these stu-people to donate. Desperately. So, let's them get drunk and use your British charm on the wives, okay? We talked about this." Her eyes are still cast to the throng, nodding and smiling to people who look over.

"We didn't talk about that dress."

She waves to... Sir Something-of-somewhere. "Yeah, well, you're working on the wives, I've got the husbands."

"You're not kidding." His eyes fall to the point where the wrap-around dress crosses at her cleavage, giving a hint more than she would usually offer.

"Cal."

"Hmm?"

"You're staring."

"So is half the room."

"Stop it."

"Don't want to," he slides his hand across the bar and let his thumb circle lightly against her back. He steps closer, his ministrations out of sight.

"Cal."

"I just thought of something!"

"Shocking."

"How we can keep me out of trouble."

"No."

"Hear me out!"

"No. _Hi, thanks for coming_..."

"But-"

"You're like a child! I'm trying to save our company from financial ruin and all you can think about is-"

He leans in and whispers in her ear.

She swallows, fighting the shudder that threatens to run down her spine as a flush travels up her entire body. "Definitely not."

"Hmm..."

"No."

He leans against the bar. "Fair enough. Hey, I wonder if that CEO's wife knows the real reason behind his knee injury..."

Her eyes widen as she grabs his arm tightly, projecting amusement and confidence in her smile as she drags him from the room.

"I take back what I said, you are a child!" she shouts in a hushed tone as she lets go of his arm, finally at a safe distance away from the party.

She holds a hand to her forehead as she sips at her drink, praying no one heard his outburst, least of all the CEO in question. She spins on her heel, "So are you trying to...Cal?"

He's disappeared.

"Cal? Cal, this isn't fun-" She squeals when she feels a hand on her arm pull her sideways into the supply closet. "Cal!"

"This is more like it," he smirks, quietly closing the door and turning the lock.

"Cal, we have a room full of benefa-" she is cut off by his lips on hers. Her glass still in one hand, she places her palm flat against his chest, but the force with which she pushes diminishes quickly as his hands slide down her body.

He grins against her lips as he feels her lacing her fingers through his hair, pulling him towards her. _Finally_!

Suddenly, it's _his_ back against the wall.

"Fine. Is this the only thing that will make you behave?" She has that glint in her eye.

He waggles his eyebrows, his lips smudged red with lipstick.

With one hand, she grapples with his belt buckle as she lowers herself to her knees, sliding the button free and the zipper down.

His eyes close as she tugs down his jeans and briefs and clasps him in those dainty fingers of hers.

He gasps _what the fuck?_ when he feels her mouth around him, a freezing sensation coupled with the searing warmth of her tongue.

His eyes shoot down to her, an empty glass by her side and her cheeks bulging in peculiar shapes from the ice cubes tucked between her teeth.

_OhholyGod_ his head thuds against the wall, his eyes closing tightly as she begins to slide up and down his length, the sensation _unbelievable_.

Her tongue swirls around the head of his cock before licking trails down his length as she takes him in fully, the ice burning at her teeth and cheeks, but worth it for his squirming and hissing.

She twists her head on her next bob, the ice melting in her mouth, the frozen path sliding on previously untouched skin. _JesusChr_-...

She stills at the head and let a single drip of ice water trickle down his length, her tongue swirling around the top. _HolyfuckingJe_...

Another movement up and down and the ice is melted, he grunts at the loss of contact as she pulls away to swallow, quickly wrapping her mouth around him again.

She quickly finds a rhythm this time, his hips thrusting just slightly as she speeds up, her teeth scraping ever so lightly against the sensitised skin. Again and again and he's almost there, _almost there_.

She can feel him tensing under her touches, his breath short, laboured and audible as she brings him right to the edge of orgasm.

She knows one more slide down him and he'll crash, so she has to fight the urge to smirk as she moans against him, the vibrations sending a tirade of groans and profanities escaping from his lips as the white heat washes over him, his body stiffening.

She wipes at the corner of her mouth as she stands, collecting the empty martini glass from her side. She kisses him, hard and passionately, and he can taste himself on her lips with the sting of alcohol. "So, you going to behave now?"

His eyes are behind lids, but he doesn't need to see her to know she's smirking. "And if I say no?"

She pats his chest, her smirk turning to a grin as she sneaks out of the closet and back to the party, leaving him to collect himself.

"_Jesus_..."


End file.
